Ruin His Day
by Sushi Chi
Summary: Shawn is reluctant to say his day is ruined. Shameless Shawn Whumpage.


**Disclaimer: Sad to say I don't own Psych. So don't bother asking to borrow them as I am doing the borrowing.**

**A/N: Shameless-Shawn-Whumpage.**

* * *

Shawn Spencer turned over in his oh so very soft and warm bed, still feeling very tired. He pried his eyes open to look at the clock. 4:56. What the hell was he doing awake at this hour? Normally he was dead to the world until it was 7 am - 2 pm (give or take an hour or so).

Shawn shrugged, still half asleep, might was well just close his eyes and become fully asleep. . . Only problem was that he wasn't getting back to sleep. What was wrong with him? He turned over again.

And nothing happened.

No sleep.

No dreams.

No drooling on his pillow.

Just staring at his clock as it changed from 5:02 to 5:03.

Maybe he should try counting sheep?

Nice green grass with a white picket fence. Oh, the sun is shining too. Very gentle breeze. He loved days like this. Hey, look! A bunch of sheep inside a white picket fenced off area. One. Two. Three. Four. Hmm. Five shall be named Mr. Fluffy-pants. Six shall be called Numba. Seven is to be dubbed Pineapple. Eight is Yanka. Nine is Rini. And ten is Sushi. Ean. George. Suelue. Zeburg. Fred III. Fred III? What about Fred and Fred II? Hmm. They have already died and became lamb chops. Mmyumm. Lamb chops. Lamb chops the way his dad made them.

Crap. It is now 5:11.

And he still isn't sleeping.

Still isn't dreaming.

Though the thought of lamb chops has gotten him drooling on his pillow. Just not the way he'd prefer.

Alright. Counting sheep does not work.

And all the early morning thinking and counting/naming of the sheep has given Shawn a slight headache. It was just what he was needing. Headaches usually kept Shawn up. Maybe he had some Advil PM. Get rid of the headache and it will conk him out for a few hours (at least).

He sighed deeply as he got up out of bed, untangling all of the covers from his legs and arms so that he can get to the bathroom. And talk about tangled, the only thing he had ever seen more tangled was Mrs. Pickles when she was playing with a ball of yarn. Alright. . . That never happened, but Shawn figured that would be more tangled than he was.

As Shawn switched his bathroom lights on he wished he hadn't done that. It was so bright. Dammit. Really bright. Like too bright for this early in the morning or for the headache.

He first relieved himself, then made his way to his medicine cabinet. Alright. Bit of good luck - he still had some Advil. Time to get rid of the headache. Aw man! The good luck was not withstanding, it wasn't Advil PM.

After dry swallowing the Advil, Shawn made his way back to his bed. As he laid back down he glanced at the clock. 5:32. Time to not count the sheep and go to sleep.

He yawned and did the turn over again. Oh. Come morning (or was it morning already?) he shall stop and get a pineapple turnover. . .and now he was drooling again. He really needed to stop that.

_Mmyumm. Pineapple turnovers._

_Stop it!_

_Go to sleep!_

_Now!_

_I Command You!_

Shawn chewed on his lip as he turned over yet again. Why couldn't he sleep? It wasn't like it was Crunch Time or anything. He had already solved the case. Just needed to divine in front of everyone and then it will be officially solved. But his vision would be awful if he didn't get some more sleep!

After waiting for sleep for a couple more hours, Shawn gave up and got out of bed.

He went about his apartment, getting ready for the day. Shower, get dressed, fix hair, munch on some food, n' the like.

When he was done with all that he grabbed his keys and started towards the Psych Office.

Alright. His morning had completely sucked (headache didn't go away, stupid Advil) but it was a sunny day and he will have a vision later in the day, plus riding on his bike always put him in a better mood. Shawn didn't know why it did. It just did. Maybe it was the point that he could fill the wind. Or the freedom he felt. Shawn never liked feeling caged. Never.

As he pulled into his normal spot outside of the office, he noticed that Gus was there. That seemed like good news.

"Hey Shawn. You're here early." Burton 'Gus' Guster commented as Shawn walked over to his desk.

Shawn rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Early is certainly the word." He pouted as he slumped into his chair. Oh. The chair was so comfortable. He was very glad he bought the 'Springy-Bounce-Up-Chairs' for the office.

Gus didn't seem to have a comment and he just kept staring at his computer screen.

Shawn sighed dramatically, getting Gus' attention.

"What is it Shawn?" He sounded annoyed already. Maybe Gus was having a bad day too. . .

"You wouldn't believe the morn-. . ." Shawn's brow creased as he stared at a corner of the room.

"Shawn?" Gus asked, wondering what had his friend's attention.

"Gus. What is with the water?" He tilted his head the side, watching the puddle grow rapidly.

"What water?" Gus followed Shawn's gaze. "What the hell is that?"

"I dunno. I'll go check it out!" Shawn said, a little too cheerfully for Gus' liking, and made his way over.

"It's a puddle Gus. A puddle of water." Shawn answered as he bent down to try and see where the water came from.

"Oh gee Shawn. That answered all of my questions." A sarcastic reply.

Shawn only grinned as followed the water stain up the wall. "Huh." Was the solitary thing he was able to say before the wall seemed to burst open and pour out water right on top of the psychic. A lot of water.

Dripping wet and standing in what was now a _very _large puddle of water, Shawn turned to Gus, "I think a pipe burst."

Gus smirked a bit at the drenched rat of a friend, but frowned a bit as he called a plumber.

"Alright, Shawn." Gus informed his friend after he hung up the phone, "The plumber is coming tomorrow sometime. So, why don't you go and mop up all of the water while I go to work." He gathered all of his things, getting ready to leave.

"But Gus," Shawn whined, "I don't know where the mop is. You always do the cleaning stuff. Plus I'm all wet."

Gus looked at Shawn blankly, "You're the psychic. I'm certain you can find a mop and know how to use it." With that Gus walked out the door, not commenting on how wet Shawn was, "And I'm In Meetings All Day! Don't Bother Calling!" He yelled back to the still dripping man.

Shawn muttered to himself about the stupid mop and the stupid pipe and the stupid Gus and the stupid Fred III as he was mopping up all the water on the floor. Why did he have to mop it up? It wasn't his fault that the pipe burst. . . Well it wasn't Gus' fault either. . .But Gus always did the cleaning!

When all the water was mopped up, Shawn just let the mop sit there as he left the office.

It was still early in the day. Sun still showing. Vision yet to make appearance. Still a good day.

He decided to first get some coffee and a pineapple turnover before the divined. Needed the nectar to divine things.

As Shawn walked into the small shop he felt more relaxed. He wasn't going to let not sleeping, a persistent headache, a pipe bursting on him, or mopping the office ruin his day. No sir-re Bob! (Hmm. None of the sheep where named Bob. Interesting.)

He just walked up to the counter and smiled at the beautiful woman awaiting his order so that she could do his bidding! (At this moment, Shawn pictured himself laughing like a villain on a movie.)

"Large coffee and a Pineapple Turnover please." And oh yeah, the Pineapple Turnover needed to be capitalized.

The beautiful woman awaiting his order gave him the sympathetic head tilt, "I'm sorry sir. But we are out of pineapple turnovers."

His throat went dry. His hands went clammy. The ground underneath his feet seemed to have disappeared. Out? How could they be out? How many people ordered them? Who ordered the last one? Oh how Shawn would chase after that guy (or girl) and steal that wonderful Pineapple Turnover!

"We are out of everything that has pineapple in it." A sad tone coming from the beautiful woman awaiting his order.

Everything with pineapple? What the hell?! This is the apocalypse! The world is ending as Shawn knew it! How could anything be worse than this?

Shawn cleared his throat, "Just the coffee then."

The beautiful woman awaiting his order smiled and nodded, took his money and gave him a large coffee.

He took it and muttered about the horrors of them being out of pineapple things. How dare they?

As he took his first sip of coffee he could feel the liquid calming him down. Alright. He'll just go have a vision and then buy some pineapple. Lots of pineapple. Maybe a bit of coconut as well. . .

Shawn sighed deeply as he found himself walking into the SBPD Station.

"Hey Jules!" He greeted, taking another drink of his beloved coffee. The only thing keeping him from running screaming from the building.

"Hey Shawn." Det. Juliet O'Hara greeted, noting how the psychic seemed a bit too cheerful and his slightly wet clothes, "What happened?"

Shawn looked down at himself, "A pipe burst in the Psych Office." He shrugged as if it was an apparent thing and she should have known that he got wet from the pipe.

"Where's Gus?" Juliet questioned, knowing that he was usually around when Shawn was there.

"Meetings all day apparently." Shawn took another drink from the nectar he had bought, "I shouldn't even try calling. Or so I've been told. But I've gotta say, I'm willing to give it a shot." And here he flashes a sly smirk.

"Sweet Justice, Spencer! Who the hell let you have coffee?!" Det. Carlton Lassiter walked up and gave Shawn a glare.

"Thanks for your concern, but I run my own life. Thank you very much, Lassie-face." He gave his most charming smile.

"That's nice. But you are not to have coffee if you come near me." Lassiter grabbed the coffee from Shawn's hand and threw it in the trash, making the coffee spill all out of the cup into the bottom of the trash can.

"Hey! That was mine!" Shawn whined. He needed the coffee! First the pineapple disaster and now this? This sure wasn't karma, he hadn't done anything wrong to begin with. Or did he break a mirror recently?

"-ncer! Spencer!" Lassiter snapped his fingers in front of the younger man's face to get him back into the real world and out of his thoughts.

Shawn thought that was a nice time to get his vision over with. Then he could go home, eat pineapple, drink as much coffee as he wanted, and sleep.

Keeping his gaze far away he flung his hand to his temple, "Oh! Bloody Windmills!"

"What the hell?" Lassiter sneered.

"He's having a vision!" Juliet exclaimed, excited.

"Windmills? No! Sancho Panza, don't let him tilt at the windmills! Don Quixote! Don! Don Quien! Oh! Don Quien had a knife. Don. Don did it!"

By now the Chief Karen Vick was watching, and she shared a look with Lassiter.

"I thought Quien might have done it!" Juliet cried out.

"He was angry with Rosa! Don killed Rosa because she found out that he," and here Shawn stopped for a moment for dramatic effect, "That he had stolen money from work. He had to get rid of her before she turned him in!"

At this point Shawn slumped down in a chair and for once found that he was actually tired. And he didn't wanna get out of the chair. He closed his eyes and tried to not pay attention to anything that was being said. He just wanted to sleep.

Juliet glanced at Shawn, expecting him to be smiling and collecting all of the praise. But he was slumped in her chair with his eyes closed. She bent down, "Shawn?"

He grunted and opened his eyes a bit, "Jules?"

"Are you alright?" Worry showing through.

"Yeah. Why?" He was trying to keep his voice light and not show how he was really feeling: rather rotten.

"Because you look like you passed out in my chair."

Shawn sighed deeply, "I'm sure it did. Help me up." He told her.

As she helped him up, she could feel his skin, "Shawn. You have a fever!"

"Do not." He protested.

"You do too!" She put her hand to his forehead, causing him to take a step back, "It's not very high though. You should just go home and get some rest before it gets worse."

He rolled his eyes and gave her an easy smile, "Sure."

She frowned at his reaction but before she could do anything Vick called her to the main office. "Gotta go. Just take care of yourself."

"Alright. I will." Shawn said, getting ready to leave and actually go home and rest. He was tired. And the no pineapple bit didn't help any.

"Hey! Look Out!"

Shawn hadn't known that the yelling was meant for him, until he found himself screaming out due to a sudden pain in his right ankle as he landed on the floor.

"Spencer, are you alright?" Lassiter asked, he had seen how Shawn wasn't really paying attention and tripped over an overturned trash can (ironically the one that had his coffee cup).

"I'm fine!" Shawn's voice on the defensive, "Help me up."

Lassiter helped the younger man up, only to have to catch him as he let go, "You hurt yourself."

"It's fine." A mumbled reply.

"Sure," Lassiter rolled his eyes, "You just can't stand on your own. Let me see." Lassiter commanded as he sat Shawn down in a nearby chair.

"No."

"Spencer." A warning tone, "Let me see. Which ankle?"

Shawn sighed, "The right."

Lassiter lifted up the pant leg, "Spencer! This thing is swollen and purple. Get Guster to take you to the hospital and get it looked at." His tone gruff.

Shawn was looking at the desk and what was on top, not meeting Lassiter's gaze, as he answered back, "Gus isn't here right now."

"What?" Lassiter asked dryly.

Unknown to the two men, Vick had been watching and she cleared her throat at this moment in time, "You take him to the hospital Det."

Lassiter turned and glared at Vick, "You're joking."

"I am not. You currently have nothing to do. O'Hara and McNabb are out arresting Quien, you can take him to the hospital."

Lassiter opened his mouth to protest only to have Vick cut him off, "I won't hear it. You are taking him to the hospital." And with that, she walked off leaving the to men by themselves.

The Det. growled as he helped the psychic to his feet, "Come on."

Shawn had to lean on Lassiter as he walked, "Well. This is. Fun." Shawn said, in between breaths. It was also very uncomfortable. Have you ever had to lean on a person taller than you? Not fun. But somehow the two of them got to Lassiter's car.

The ride to the hospital was mostly quiet, but when they were a little halfway there, Lassiter had to ask a question that had been bugging him a bit, "Have you even read _Don Quixote_?"

"Of course." Shawn answered as if Lassiter should have known that, "One of my favorites."

"Really?" Lassiter didn't believe him at all, "You really read that? All of it? I figured you never read anything harder than Nancy Drew." Lassiter snorted at the thought of reading Nancy Drew as a child.

"Dude. Nancy Drew rocked. You do not dis the Drew." Shawn paused, "And yes. I've read all of it. I first read it-"

"Wait. First? You've read it more than once?" Lassiter cut in, "You've got to be joking now."

Shawn cleared his throat, "I _first_ read it when I was nine."

Lassiter turned and looked at the younger man's face. It was calm and collected. No smirk. Not tell tales of lying. He blinked and then said, "You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He sighed, "I was bored one day and Mom was reading it, so it was out just laying there on the table. Being as I was grounded I couldn't watch TV, go outside, or see Gus. So I read it. Turned out to be a good book."

His mom was reading it? Lassiter didn't know anything about Shawn's mom. He never really talked about her, and neither did Henry. The Det. shrugged the thoughts away as they pulled up to the hospital.

Shawn went to open the door, "Thanks Lassie, but I can take it from here."

Lassiter looked blankly at Shawn, "Yeah? And how are you going to get _inside_ the hospital? You can't stand by yourself."

Shawn sulked a bit as he knew that the older man was right, "Fine. Help me _inside _then."

The two of them made their way inside the hospital (which took a while with the limping and all) and Lassiter wasn't sure if he should have been surprised that all the nurses around (total number of three) seemed to know who Shawn was.

"Ah! Shawnie! Wha'd ya do this time?"

"Let me get cha' a wheel chair!"

"I'll page Ian."

Lassiter turned to Shawn, "Shawnie?" He asked seriously.

Shawn turned and blinked, "Carly?" A light mocking tone in his voice.

"Who is Ian?"

"My doctor. Dr. Ian Fletch." Shawn smiled as the second nurse came with a wheel chair, "Been my doctor since my first broken leg."

"And when was that?" Lassiter helped the younger man in the chair.

"I was three." Shawn took a lolli-pop from the nurse, "Thank you Loren. You are too kind to me." He unwrapped the candy and smiled broadly, "They've even got a room ready for me here."

A dry tone, "I am not in the least bit surprised."

"As you shouldn't be." Shawn smirked as the first nurse came back.

"I filled out your paperwork for you, Shawnie!" She giggled at him.

"Thank you so much Stephie!" He was dripping with charm.

She kneeled down beside the psychic, "So, what happened?" Lassiter thought he might get sick from just the look of her pouty face she made.

"I fell." A simple reply.

"I bet! Wha'd you fall over Shawnie?"

"A trash can." He smirked as if he was proud of it.

"Again?" Her mouth fell open.

"Not that I'm that surprised." A deep and calm voice sounded behind the three, "Hello Shawn."

They all turned to see a man who was well over six feet tall with pale skin and white blonde hair and clear blue eyes, "Hey Ian." Shawn smiled and then he held up his leg, "I sprained my ankle again."

"We'll have to have an X-Ray to make sure that's all you did to it." A sigh from the doctor as he turned to Lassiter, "Hello. I'm Dr. Ian Fletch." He held out his hand.

"Det. Carlton Lassiter." He took the offered hand. The doc had a good grip.

"Good of you to bring Shawn here. He would have never come on his own." At this point the good doctor shot a sort of glare at the fake psychic. In which said fake psychic just shrugged and smirked.

Ian turned to Lassiter, "I guess you drove him here," And with a nod from the Det. The Doc. Continued, "Will you please stay in the waiting area to drive him back home?"

Lassiter sighed. He really didn't want to. But there was no other way for the younger man to get home, "Fine. But I will try and call Guster and if I get a hold of him, he will be taking Spencer home."

Ian nodded, "Sounds fine Det."

Lassiter watched as Shawn and Ian left him in the waiting room. So, he took out his cell phone and dialed Gus' phone. Which he was greeted by Shawn's voice.

_"Hey! You've reached Gus aka Knuckles the wanna be gangster's phone. Please leave him a loverly message and he'll get back to you sometime when he's not spinning yarn."_

Lassiter took a deep breath, "Spencer changed your outgoing message. And he's in the hospital." With that he hung up and waiting for either a call from Gus or Shawn to come back. He was hoping for the previous.

After a length, Lassiter sighed deeply and started down at his phone hoping that it would ring very soon as he saw that Shawn was coming up to him on crutches.

"I've got a sprain." He announced as if he should win a prize. Oh no, he wasn't going to let not sleeping, a persistent headache, a pipe bursting on him, mopping the office, not getting his pineapple turnover, getting his coffee taken away, or getting a sprain ruin his day.

"I thought that you can walk on sprains." Lassiter muttered as he stood up. Good God, he wanted to get away from the hospital and away from Shawn. He hoped that his phone would ring.

"Not severe ones. Two week on crutches."

He wasn't going to let not sleeping, a persistent headache, a pipe bursting on him, mopping the office, not getting his pineapple turnover, getting his coffee taken away, or getting a _severe_ sprain ruin his day.

Lassiter rolled his eyes, "Of course." Then a slightly happy thought came into his mind, "Two weeks? I'm sure you won't be able to work on cases during that time."

"Nah. I can still make it to crime scenes." Laughter heard in the light voice.

And all of Lassiter's happy thoughts of two weeks free from Shawn exploded and he glowered as they made their way to the doors.

But alas, they didn't get all the way to the doors before something happened.

To Lassiter it seemed like slow motion. He watched as one of Shawn's crutches slid slightly on the floor. He then noted the sign in the background stating that the floor is still wet. Then Shawn's other crutch was thrown off due to the first one sliding, causing the younger man to loose his balance and go down. The crutch on his right side seemed to jar his shoulder, Lassiter heard a popping sound, and then the hurt man's arm got tangled in with the crutch (still on his right side mind you) and said crutch suddenly bent at a weird angle, this time Lassiter heard more than a popping sound, it was a crack.

Only then did time seem to speed up again as Shawn fell to the ground in a heap and cry out in pain.

The three nurses came rushing up to him and Lassiter looked around for the doctor who was walking up calmly with a seemingly bored expression on his face.

Somehow they got Shawn in a wheel chair as he himself was cradling his arm and once again he was taken to the back.

Lassiter sat down angrily. The idiot did something else? At least they were still in the hospital. Plus this gave Gus more time to call back and take Shawn off Lassiter's hands.

After another length, Dr. Ian Fletch came out to talk to Lassiter.

"Right now Shawn is getting a sling fitted for his arm. When he had fallen down he had dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm in two places above the elbow. Not to mention he had already had a slight fever and a severe sprain."

"Uh-huh. And what does this mean?" Lassiter knew this had to mean something rather important.

Ian sighed dramatically, "Well, he can't walk on his left foot due to the sprain and that's why he was on crutches, but because of his arm being broken and in a sling he can't maneuver on crutches anymore. He will be in a wheel chair, and the hospital will loan that out to him."

"But?" Lassiter knew there was more.

"But because of this," Ian continued, "He can't very well get around so he'll have to stay with someone."

Did the doc. think Shawn was going to stay with Lassiter? Oh hell no, "Alright. I know what to do."

Ian smiled, "Good." With that the doctor walked away and Lassiter took his phone out to make a call to someone. . . When he was done, he looked up to see Shawn being wheeled over by the nurse Loren.

"Hey Lassie!" Shawn called out happily. He wasn't going to let not sleeping, a persistent headache, a pipe bursting on him, mopping the office, not getting his pineapple turnover, getting his coffee taken away, getting a severe sprain, dislocating his shoulder or breaking his arm in two places and being put in a wheel chair ruin his day.

Lassiter nodded to Loren, "I'll take him from here."

She smiled, "Alright." She bent down to Shawn, "I don't want to see you back here again. Not until it's time to check up on you. Alright?"

He smirked at her, "Alright. I honestly don't see how I can get hurt any more anyway."

Her laugh was light as she walked away.

"Come on Lassie. Lets go!"

After Lassiter somehow got Shawn in his car and the wheel chair folded up and put in the back, he started driving.

"Hey. Lassie?" Shawn's voice almost quivering, "Where are we going?"

Lassiter ignored him. They were almost at their destination anyway.

"Lassie. This isn't the way to my place."

"You can't stay at your place. You can't get around." Lassiter almost growled.

Shawn nodded, this was true, "But this isn't the way to Gus'."

Lassiter ignored him as he slowed down to pull into the house's driveway.

"This isn't Gus' place." Shawn stated, "You need to take me to Gus'."

The older man put his car in park, "I haven't been able to get a hold of Gus. I did get a hold of him though. So, you are staying here."

He wasn't going to let not sleeping, a persistent headache, a pipe bursting on him, mopping the office, not getting his pineapple turnover, getting his coffee taken away, getting a severe sprain, dislocating his shoulder or breaking his arm in two places and being put in a wheel chair ruin his day. But having to stay at his Dad's while he was in a the wheel chair was probably going to ruin it.

This was so much worse than the pineapple catastrophe.


End file.
